Private Tales First Impressions

[Afanas]

Lorelei Darke
Afanas, slightly disheartened by the redheaded woman's departure from the Blind Luck, decided to pursue her. He paid his tab in gold, not silver, for silver's touch was an anathema to his kind, and left the establishment mere seconds after Lorelei; his impressive bulk spilled through the brass doorway with preternatural fluidity.

Like a large cat, he trailed after Lorelei, his steps all but soundless, the soles of his feet barely brushing against the bumpy surface of the cobblestone street.

She was pretty, all green eyes, coppery locs and high, aristocratic cheekbones, yet it wasn't her corporeal shell that invited the brunt of his interest.

Afanas thought knowledge equal to power, and this mysterious woman seemed privy to more than just the local state of affairs. Earlier, he had noticed her komodi acquaintance and presumed the man was her retainer, if not an advisor. Given his extensive knowledge of the personal intrigues of the native nobility, it was reasonable to believe his mistress stood leaps and bounds ahead of him in the information department.

"Leaving so soon, miss?" he queried, standing some twenty paces behind Lorelei, hands linked together behind his back.

The white-haired girl, whom he assumed to be either a relative or a close friend of hers, was nowhere in sight. Somehow, that made things easier. The other woman didn't seem much amicable, or talkative, for that matter. In fact, something told him she'd sooner spit poison in his face like a cobra than entertain a conversation if she caught him prowling about.

"Before you hurl at me whatever sorceries it is that you can bring to bear- I just wanted to chat with you. You caught my eye and I happen to be notoriously bad at making first impressions."

 

[Lorelei Darke]

Her overly tall shadow would not be missed despite his efforts and his quiet way. Lorelei had parted ways with her young sister, leaving Aristeia to take the carriage home while she walked. It was important to learn one's surroundings when settling into a new land and the only way she was willing to do so was with boot-to-cobble. Hired eyes and ears could tell her much, but they would not see or hear as much as her own eyes and ears could.

Plus it would allow the man from the tavern to have his audience and far be it from she to deny such a polite request. Even if he was under the assumption she would respond in kind with aggression.

So she paused in her stride, aware but not alarmed, and turned a glance to him over her shoulder. My but he was a tall drink of blood, wasn't he? It was not often she came across those that required her to look up at them, even at twenty paces back.

"Very well," she humored his presumption though she'd had no intention of hurling sorceries at him - what a terrible waste of time and energy - and gestured with a hand for him to join her, "you may chat but I intend to keep walking."

It would have be a mobile discussion.

 

[Afanas]

The night was alive with the sound of howling winds, a restless symphony that swept through the trees and rattled the windows. The moon hung high in the sky, its silvery light casting eerie shadows that danced across the ground. Leaves swirled in chaotic spirals, lifted from their resting places and sent tumbling through the air like playful spirits.

Occasionally, a particularly strong gust would rush by, causing the branches to creak and groan, as if the trees were sharing secrets with one another.

Afanas walked beside Lorelei, his seven-foot-one frame casting an immense shadow that all but blanketed her whole being.

Before another gust could pick up, Afanas grasped a fistful of his maroon cloak and raised it so that its bulk would protect Lorelei's back from the wind's playful assault.

"I'll preface this by saying that I know you aren't a human, even if you look nearly identical to one. So, miss, what might you be? I'm dying to know, no pun intended."

In the distance, the sound of a loose shutter clanged against the side of a house killed some of the ever growing suspense left in the wake of Afanas' question.

 

[Lorelei Darke]

The gesture was certainly polite if wholly unecessary. Lorelei made no move to dissuade him from it for she had not grown tired of chivalrous acts even in her own long years. If nothing else, it stopped her hair from becoming entirely unruly as it was want to do in such a gale.

"Perceptive..." she remarked to him. It was in the nature of predators to recognize one another - they had to if they ever intended to maintain territory, fend off rivals, or find mates.

"I am of a people called the Aszai," which likely meant next to nothing for those who were not as old as herself or her sister, "I believe myself and my sister may be the last of them."

"My name is Lorelei," she added, "I have not been a Miss for a very long time. And you are?"

 

[Afanas]

Afanas furrowed his brow, his lips pressing into a thin line as he canted his head slightly to the side, a flicker of something akin to worry crossing his countenance. His eyes narrowed, and a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed the barest hint of discomfort.

"I tell people I'm a vampire more often than not, but that is only a half-truth, and it is certainly easier than unfurling a complex explanation, but if you insist…"

He weighed his response carefully, his cloak all but draped over the woman's shoulders now. He didn't know if the bone-gnawing wind bothered her, yet he wouldn't chance it either out of fear of coming off as uncouth.

"Mine people are referred to as Psuchephages. It roughly translates as life or soul 'devourer'. Given our rarity, I doubt you've heard much about us. To be honest, I'm probably the youngest of my kind."

 

[Lorelei Darke]

"I tell people I'm a vampire more often than not, but that is only a half-truth, and it is certainly easier than unfurling a complex explanation, but if you insist…"

She made a noise of humor though it may have been drowned in the winds. Seemed they were of a similar origin - vampire was the misnomer for her people as well but it could not be further from the reality of what they were. Though she had not expected him to drop a name into her mental lap that she, herself, had not heard since...

"I know one," Lorelei said with a glance up at him, eyes narrowed as scarlet whipped across her face. No, it had not been him and by his own admission if he was young, then it definitely had not been. "Or I did. From my youth," she went on to explain, "he was an associate of my Empress and I sat in on their meetings on several occasions. His name was Beocca, if I recall. He was a purveyor of esoteric knowledge and seemed rather interested in our Leader. I cannot be certain but I think she may even have taken him as a mate for a time."

"Hm," that garnered a short look of amusement from her as she brushed her hair from her lips and back behind her ear - a fruitless action as the wind whipped another piece out and she silently lamented not having worn a cloak this night with a hood, "that is not someone I have thought on in...quite some time. He was a curious man."

 

[Afanas]

"An unwise action, should one seek to preserve the purity of their royal bloodline. A child produced with a phage will, invariably, always end up as a pure-blooded phage, regardless of the other parent's species."

Afanas couldn't suppress a chuckle. Old phages were terrifying. His father, an elder of their kind, stood damn near eleven feet tall from the soles of his feet to the crown of his skull, and that was just his intermediary form. All psuchephages had a "true" form that mirrored the shape and nature of their souls, yet Afanas hadn't had the pleasure of seeing his father transform in full. It'd be decades, no, centuries before Afanas could achieve a similar transformation, and only then would the rest of his kind consider him a fully fledged adult. For now, he was viewed as an adolescent at best.

"My father sired me with a human sorceress from Elbion. She abandoned me shortly after I was born. I've inherited some of her cosmetic features, but beyond that, there's nothing human about me."

 

[Lorelei Darke]

"I would not know of or speak on the intentions of my late Empress," for it was a poor thing indeed to speak ill of the dead. Truthfully she did not even know for certain that Chesza had taken Beocca as a mate, but it had been a rumor she recalled within the royal court. Either way, she suspected that the Empress was free to do as she pleased, especially at her age. She had not produced any heirs in Lorelei's lifetime before the civil war and so far as she was aware she'd never intended to. Not that it mattered in the end.

Lorelei frowned into the wind, more agitated by the inconvenience of it for their conversation than anything.

She did raise her brows faintly at his final words, wondering if perhaps he seemed at all resentful of the fact of his origins. Family was everything to her and she could not fathom her life without it - only she actually could because she presently lived that reality. Where once her family coven had been expansive and she'd stood alongside her adult great-great grand children, now there was only herself and her younger sister.

"And what does a motherless phage want of me?" Lorelei asked, "You interrupt my private game and conversation only to follow me out when I leave. You have not even told me your name."

 

[Afanas]

It wasn't until Lorelei mentioned it that the realization hit him like a cold splash of water. He had been chatting for several minutes, animatedly discussing the trappings of his race, but he had completely forgotten to introduce himself. The awkward silence that followed felt like a spotlight shining directly on him, amplifying his dumbfoundedness.

A wave of heat rushed to his cheeks, and he could feel the embarrassment creeping in. He glanced down at Lorelei, suddenly very aware of the way her green eyes bore into him like twin emerald daggers.

"Pardon my lack of manners. I am Afanas, son of Vlakhos."

An urge to lean down and scrutinize her features tugged at his mind. There was something in the way her hair changed from dark copper to almost burgundy red under the moon's gaze that invited awe and curiosity.

"I've no desire to demand anything from you, but your knowledge could aid me greatly in the endeavor I'm about to undertake. I did not lie when I said that I wish to gather an army of mercenaries with the goal of restoring Alliria to its former glory."

 

[Lorelei Darke]

There it was, the impetus behind this entire conversation. He wanted her knowledge for his own gains but Lorelei Darke rarely ever played into the games of others when it did not serve herself as well. Alliria, for her, was merely a foothold to her ultimate goal of Kuait beyond the shores. She had no intention of remaining within the city for any longer than necessary and, frankly, the less people concerned about her presence here the better.

This might very well serve as more interference than she cared to entertain.

The wind gave an uproarious howl, bending the man's cloak about her figure. She glowered - against the wind, against this conversation. Her steps veered off the cobble walks, a hand snagging the man by his front to pull him along with her as she took refuge from the gale in an alley that cut between larger buildings. In the dark her green eyes flashed with an acidic glow and her hair gleamed as if made of fire as she passed through lancing rays of moonlight.

The alley lead into a sheltered courtyard adorned by statues, benches, and a small herb garden. She released him from a vice-like grip and lifted her hands to smooth her hair into something a bit less wind-whipped. Pulling the mane of scarlet around one shoulder, Lorelei gestured to drop an unseen magic ward about them that would muffle their presence and conversation to those beyond.

"You wish for knowledge?" she inquired of him sharply, a potent brow larked at such an audacious request, "I am not in the business of giving something for nothing, Lord Afanas."

 

[Afanas]

He shook his head, unable to discern whether she was trying to flatter or insult him when she deigned to call him a 'Lord.'

"I am no lord, not yet, at least. My kind doesn't subscribe to such formal hierarchies."

He stood before her with an air of quiet confidence, his posture relaxed yet alert, eyes darting towards the source of her sorcery. Had he wanted to see its inner machinations, he could've. Witchsight was something innate to Psuchephages, and Afanas had all but mastered it despite his relatively infantile age.

The blackblade positioned diagonally against his back rattled inside its scabbard. Lorelei's little display had awakened it, and it was hungry. For a moment, it tried sliding itself out of its resting place, but Afanas halted its advance by raising one hand over his shoulder only to tightly coil his slender digits around the sword's obsidian-like hilt. He pushed it back in, much to the blade's overt protest.

"Help me now, and I will owe you. My word is steel, Lorelei. You'll have the opportunity to cash in your favor; of that I'm certain. Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or even next year, but there'll come a time when you'll find yourself needing my battlefield expertise."

 

[Lorelei Darke]

"No."

The answer was simple, stern. A mother telling a child it could not have dessert before finishing dinner.

"I do not know you, you have no credit or history with me. You are a complete stranger asking for aid in assuming some form of militant control of a city for which I have spent near two days in - even banks require collateral for unknown entities before doling out loans."

 

[Afanas]

A soft chuckle escaped his lips, and a warm smile spread across his face, illuminating his features. His eyes sparkled with amusement, crinkling at the corners, and a hint of mischief danced in his expression.

"You misunderstood me. When I said my word is steel, I meant it in a very…literal way. There are magical laws my people have to abide by. If I swear on my power to do something and then go back on the promise, I will suffer a physical penalty, which could entail anything from going blind to having my blood boil and violently erupt from any number of my orifices."

He tilted his head slightly, his smile widening as he leaned in a bit closer, eager to clarify the misunderstanding. The corners of his mouth turned up in a way that suggested he found the mix-up endearing rather than frustrating.

"I must confess, it astonishes me that this small piece of information escaped your notice, given your assertion of familiarity with my kind. Unlike the fair folk, we phages value transparency in regards to our dealings, not just for the banal reasons of morality but because we can DIE if we strike a bargain that is beyond our ability to fulfill."

 

[Lorelei Darke]

She stood unmoved by his words and his looming presence, the fetters of patience nearing their ends. If it was his vast assumptions or simply the folly of youth, these were his consequences to deal with. Lorelei looked up at him, expression of slate as he expanded upon his circumstances.

He wasn't listening. How unfortunate.

"I do not care if your magic laws will make you wither into a pile of leaves to blow away in the wind for breaking your word. I do not make deals with unknown entities."

Her brow furrowed faintly as she shook her head, "You would have had better luck asking me out for dinner, Mr. Afanas."

 

[Afanas]

"I wouldn't dare. It'd feel too much like hitting on my own mother."

He looked to the side and chewed on his lower lip while contemplating what it was that he could offer to the woman to halt her growing enmity.

"Speaking of collateral. I've coin, but not in quantities that'd interest you, I imagine. My sword I cannot give you, for it'd refuse to serve you and thus prove a poor recompense."

The air was fragrant with the scent of night-blooming jasmine and honeysuckle, their delicate white and yellow flowers releasing their perfume into the cool night. In the corners of the garden, ancient statues stood sentinel, their crude, time-worn features seemingly judging the pair.

"If you wish to know me better, I must warn you, I'm not a very interesting man. I've dedicated the majority of my life to working as a sellsword and a monster hunter for hire, both of which are dull ways to carve out a livelihood."

 

[Lorelei Darke]

Wow. Aging her to her face.

Bold.

Stupid.

Certainly not the way to go when trying to smooth out one's missteps. Lorelei's brows batted upward over a slow blink of disbelief and settled upon a rather stark stare of bemusement as he continued to natter on. The tether of patience thinned a bit more as she listened to him speak like a child trying to make his case.

I've got these pebbles I found and a frog, but you wouldn't like him because he'd pee on your hand.

Adorable. Were he any less so, she'd have struck him where he stood.

Over a slow and deep inhale, Lorelei reached deep into her stock of self-restraint, "Is that so? Goodness, what adventures you must have, Mr. Afanas. You really must tell me all about them some other time, but not tonight - I have other matters to attend to this evening."

Like a bullheaded fiance who was probably making a mess of her apartments with his dirty boots.

 

[Afanas]

"But there is something…" he mused. If she left, that was on her. Afanas was not about to hound the redheaded woman who just happened to take offense to the fact she was his senior by several centuries.

Afanas raised a hand, flashing a ring wrapped around his long index finger. It was a dark thing, fashioned from stygian alloys that seemed to absorb the moon's luminescence rather than reflect it. Its band was wide and intricately designed, featuring twisting vines and jagged, teeth-like edges.

At its center sat a large, blood-red ruby, fashioned in the shape of a human eye, with swirling, ever-shifting patterns embroiled where an iris should've been.As he slowly pulled it off his digit, the runes engraved on the inside of the band pulsed faintly with dark energies, hinting at a hidden power.If Lorelei gazed at the ring, she'd see the sort of crackling miasma dancing on the edges of the perfectly polished gemstone.

"This ring was given to me by King Jürgen Kaiser as a small token of appreciation. The ring bearer may demand admission to the innermost layers of his majesty's subterranean city. Many a vampire would give a small fortune or even kill to have it. If nothing else, it's a beautiful piece of jewelry that perfectly complements your hair."

 

[Lorelei Darke]

Green eyes followed the progress of the ring from its initial presentation on his hand to the proffering gesture as it rested in his palm. She looked neither intrigued nor impressed. Beyond her general apathy toward jewelry and baubles, enchanted artefacts were not and had never been of much interest to her. No, that particular hobby had grown in her son, Merovign, who at his peak had produced some horrible alchemy creations in his lifetime.

It made her think of him and it made her remember her great loss and grief. The fact that it was forged in connection to a Vampiric King made little difference to her. There was no great desire to accept it and she did, for several moments, feel very strongly about declining it altogether. Yet a glance up to his face saw in Afanas an earnest desire to make something work, go so far as to coax her with a compliment.

Lorelei shut her eyes for a moment and sighed deeply, then held out her hand to accept it, "Very well," she relented.

 

[Afanas]

Instead of simply dropping the piece of jewelry into Lorelei's grasp, Afanas took her hand in his own and, with much care, slid the circular metal band down the length of her slender ring finger. His flesh was impossibly smooth, like polished marble, and a few degrees cooler than her own despite its almost silken texture.

"There. It fits you much better. My fingers are too…thick for me to wear it comfortably."

He admired the delicateness of her appendage for another few seconds before relinquishing his hold on it. Danas pulled back, folding his arms just under his well-developed pectoral muscles, pushing them up in the process.

"And for the record, I've no desire to conduct a military takeover of Alliria, well, not a hostile one, at least. The city would benefit from having a warmaster, and I'd benefit from having a base of operation. It's a win-win for everyone involved."

 

[Lorelei Darke]

Once the ring was in place, Lorelei curled her fingers inward and dropped her hand to her side. There would be no admiring of the trinket, only a stark desire to pull it off and throw it into the nearest body of water. Despite this, she remained reserved and composed.

"I am certain Alliria would benefit from a great many things," she replied lightly. Though her time here had been short, she'd stood at the head of covens, factions, kingdoms, and empires enough to see what the city's stagnation had lead to. Where it was lacking and what it needed.

"In a week's time, you can find me at the easternmost dockyards. Tonight, I'm afraid, I have other business to attend to."

 

[Afanas]

Afanas stood at the edge of the docks, his silhouette framed against the rising light of dawn. The rhythmic sound of his pacing echoed softly, mingling with the gentle lapping of the water against the hulls of the boats moored nearby. Every few moments, he would glance down the harbor, his eyes scanning the horizon as if willing Lorelei to materialize from the mist.

The air was thick with the scent of sodium and the distant calls of seagulls, but he seemed oblivious to the world around him, lost in his own contemplation.

He traded his hunter's attire for something more…elaborate; a detailed cape attached to twin brass pauldrons hugged his broad frame, its fur-lined collar moving in synch with the salty breeze.

Under it he wore a black, double-breasted coat, each of its many buttons fashioned from ivory to symbolize human eyes. For the first time in his life, he decided to don gloves, which reached all the way up to his elbows.

He didn't much like the attire, but returning it now would've likely earned him the tailor's undying scorn and he quite liked that eccentric old elf.

For all its stylish bravado, it looked too…gauche, and it limited his range of motion compared to the compact bodysuit he normally sported. He was already starting to miss how stretchy and breathable it felt against him. He thought of it as his second skin, for slipping into it felt no more difficult than slipping into a warm bath or a cozy bed.

 

[Learien Darke]

It was not Lorelei that materialized from the mists, but another. Tall (though not as tall as Afanas and even a hair shorter than the woman in question), broad through the shoulders, pale of skin, white of hair and blue of gaze. He wore a workman's attire of slacks and shirt stained from a long night of manual labor. His boots tamped deftly across creaking docks though he made no other sound to speak of.

Heralded by the distant clanging of the eastern dock bell that signaled not himself, but the arrival of a ship, he stopped several feet away from the unmistakable silhouette. Though given a rather general description to go from, there were very few he'd met in the world that matched the height prescribed.

"Mr. Afanas?" he called, his own voice a low and calm bass, smooth in tone.

 

[Afanas]

Afanas blinked. No coppery red hair. No green eyes. No tits. No shapely legs. This wasn't Lorelei.

He canted his head to the side, his stygian orbs regarding the man who, for some reason, knew his name and made an effort to call him a 'Mister' rather than just 'Afanas'.

"Yes, that'd be me. I must inquire as to how you've come to know my name."

Much less elegant than Lorelei this man was. He couldn't imagine her in a workman's attire, for she struck him as a woman too haughty to dirty her hands.

 

[Learien Darke]

"I was sent by the Lady Darke to collect you," he replied simply, "she will not be meeting you here on the docks today as she is otherwise engaged in her work."

His glacial gaze looked the taller man over pointedly, an assessment of one predator against another, before making a half turn, "If you would follow me, please." There was enough respect in the tone and the gesture to indicate that he was a man of title and status, but that Afanas' connection to the Lady granted him some leeway in propriety even despite his own lackthereof.

 

[Afanas]

Afanas, not thinking much of it, simply shrugged and followed after Learien. As he walked, the brass-encrusted tip of his scabbard kept hitting and bouncing off the wooden planks.

The elven man who fashioned Afanas' newest attire advised him to wear the sword on his hip for once, saying it'd look ungainly if he strapped it onto his back the way he usually did. The tailor didn't, admittedly, consider the fact that Afanas' sword exceeded six feet from tip to pommel.

"I can only imagine what she's up to," he commented, offhandedly.